Iki Masho!

It’s freezing so I’ve very sensibly spent most of the day in bed alternately snoozing and masturbating furiously. I’ve been trying to convince myself masturbation constitutes exercise as I’ve got a bit wobbly round the tum over Christmas and while I’m not normally worried about this sort of thing, I have a PVC pencil skirt to fit into tomorrow night.

My ears are ringing now because I’ve spent so long today squirming up against a vibrator and I’ve lost all sensation in my clit. Maybe I’ve broken it?

The bedroom reeks of cunt – a salty, musky tang – and I’ve done what I used to do when I was fourteen and lit joss sticks to mask the smell. It doesn’t work of course, it just makes the bedroom smell of cunt and patchouli but that’s a combination of smells I’m nostalgic for.

Because I’m media trash (entry level) these days, I’m going to a swanky party tomorrow night and Itsuko is my ‘plus one’. She’s sent me a text wondering whether a hot pink, skin tight satin dress would be overkill. As I’m planning on teaming the PVC pencil skirt with a silver sequinned jacket (with nothing underneath – partly because I’m indecisive and partly because, hey, the jacket has a perfectly good button, doesn’t it?) and a black feather boa, I text her back and tell her I think that will be fine.

Actually I text back “Hai”, which is one of my few words of Japanese. And notice how I know the Japanese for ‘yes’ but not for ‘no’. If I ever find myself on a packed Japanese commuter train, pressed up against a heaving throng of male bodies with a strange hand up my skirt I’ll just have to fall back on whichever one of my other phrases seems most appropriate:

“Domo arigatoo gozaimas” (Thank you very much)

“Aishiteru wa” (I love you)

“Iki masho!” (Let’s go!)

Comments

[D&L]

Masturbation *is* exercise--not particularly slimming but, hey, one won't stick to an exercise program if one doesn't enjoy it.

Happy New Year from NYC, Lucy.